


Steal Away Home

by ami_ven



Series: On the Run [24]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: mcsheplets, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting John to safety is worth more than Rodney’s ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Away Home

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #208 "heist"

“I’m not in the mood, McKay,” said Sam, the moment he entered her lab.

Rodney winced, because he deserved that, and took a deep breath. “I know,” he said. “I— I’m here to apologize.”

Sam looked up, sharply. “Apologize? You?”

He bit back a reply, because this wasn’t about him at all, and they were wasting time. “Yes, me. To be honest, I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh, I see,” said Sam, her expression hardening. “You’re only polite when you need something.”

“I don’t— It’s not for me!” Rodney protested. “I know why you did it, now. When Teal’c was stuck in the ‘gate, why you took the risk. I’d never had that before, people I cared about enough to do something so stupid. But I understand now what it means to have a team, the things you’re willing to risk to keep them safe.”

She nodded. “It’s really something you have to experience. Okay, apology accepted.”

“Really? I mean, good. Because I really do need a favor.”

Sam narrowed her eyes— she’d clearly believed him a moment ago, but she was still suspicious. “What kind of favor?”

“I need you to request that Atlantis’s puddle jumper be sent here from Area 51,” said Rodney. When she continued to frown, he added, “It’s not for me, Sam, it’s for Sheppard.”

“You know that we did everything we could,” said Sam, sympathetically. “General Hammond and General O’Neill tried calling the President! And I think Dr. Weir is still—”

“It’s too late for that,” Rodney interrupted. “There isn’t time for reasoning, or politics, or hoping that _maybe_ the military will do the right thing! And John is—”

He broke off abruptly, closing his mouth so fast that his teeth clicked, and Sam’s eyes widened.

“What did you do, McKay?”

Rodney winced again. “It’s probably better that you don’t know.”

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Rodney knew he had a terrible poker face, but he didn’t even try to hide anything. In the forty-eight hours since he had heard that John had been stabbed in prison, Rodney had realized what caring about someone _really_ meant— he might have been able to arrange what he was planning on his own, but a better guarantee of John’s safety was more than worth putting aside his ego.

Finally, Sam let out a low breath. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Rodney? Really?”

“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation.

“Okay,” she said. “Wait right here.”

She left the door to her office ajar while she made the phone call, but Rodney didn’t bother to listen, trying not to think about all the ways this could go horribly wrong now that another person knew about his plan, or how horribly pale John had been when Rodney had left him.

“McKay?” said Sam, coming back in. “It’ll be here at oh-five-hundred tomorrow. Can you have everything you need ready by then?”

That only gave him ten hours. “Yes,” he said. “I can—”

“I don’t want to know,” she interrupted. “It’s better for both of us if I know as little as possible.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rodney agreed. “Thank you, Sam. I just… thank you.”

She smiled. “Five AM, McKay.”

*

“Are you sure they’ll come this way, lad?” asked Carson, his accent exaggerated by his wide yawn.

“This is the only entrance big enough to bring the ‘jumper through,” said Rodney.

He parked their rented panel van as near to the driveway as he could, glancing at his watch every few seconds, until a large military truck was cleared through the guardhouse into the parking lot of Cheyenne Mountain.

“Stay here,” said Rodney, and strode across to the driver’s side of the truck when it reached the second checkpoint.

“You can’t bring that in there!” he snapped.

The driver frowned. “I have orders to bring this directly to Colonel Carter.”

“Yes, fine,” said Rodney. “But not before I have a chance to check it for— you actually don’t have clearance to know what I need to check it for.”

“Dr. McKay…” the airman began, uncomfortable, then frowned. “Colonel Carter?”

Sam walked around from the other side of the truck. “This is very delicate equipment, sergeant,” she said. “Dr. McKay needs to make sure it’s still stable after transport, before we bring it inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In fact, we should all take a step this way,” Sam continued. “And make sure nobody touches the body of the truck while Dr. McKay is working, or— well, I won’t say, you’ve probably just eaten.”

The driver and two escorting airmen quickly scrabbled out of the truck to stand beside Sam, who had deliberately placed them where they would have no view of the back of the truck.

Rodney flashed her a grateful smile and clambered into the truck bed. The ‘jumper, being resilient Ancient metal, was only strapped down to keep it still, and he opened the hatch with a thought, then jogged back to the van to meet Carson.

“Sheppard first,” he said, and Carson nodded, “Aye.”

John was still unconscious, though now it was because of Carson’s drugs than from the infection of his previously-badly-tended stab wound. His fever had broken only the afternoon before but he wasn’t strong or coherent enough to travel while awake. Carson had wanted to find him a stretcher, but Rodney just hauled John into his arms, careful of his healing stitches. It was easier than it should have been— John had lost weight in prison, weight he really hadn’t had to lose in the first place.

The doctor got John settled and strapped in to the ‘jumper’s bench while Rodney ferried the rest of their supplies, silently cursing the sound of the cart wheels on the asphalt until he heard Sam say, “Well, it sounds like he had to bring out the big equipment. We might as well get started on that transfer paperwork…”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rodney felt like he didn’t quite properly until he had closed the hatch behind John and watched the airmen unload the ‘jumper in the staging area next to the Gate Room.

“Are you _sure_ this is the only option, Rodney?” asked Carson, when they were alone again.

“I’m sure,” said Rodney, and he was. This was the last time he would stand on planet Earth, possibly forever, but he had no doubt that this was absolutely the right thing to do.

“All right,” the doctor said, then pulled Rodney into a fierce hug. “Look after him, lad, and look after yourself, too.”

“I will, Carson,” Rodney promised. “Thank you.”

Carson looked close to tears as he nodded. “Of course.”

“Sam…”

To Rodney’s surprise, she hugged him, too, brief but genuine. “John Sheppard is a lucky man,” she said. “Be careful out there, both of you.”

“Out where, colonel?” Rodney said, with badly feigned innocence. “I’m just running tests on the ‘jumper’s dialing mechanism.”

“That’s right,” said Sam. “My mistake. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Carson, won’t you walk with me?”

“I—” the doctor began, but Rodney picked up the zat gun Sam had set, obviously, on an empty crate.

“I’m really sorry about this, Carson,” he said, and fired.

Sam caught Carson before he could fall. “Go, Rodney,” she snapped, then reached up to grab the phone. “Medical team to the staging area! It’s Dr. Beckett, he just collapsed!”

Rodney opened the ‘jumper’s hatch even before he’d started moving, stopping only to rest a hand over John’s heart and reassure himself that it was still beating. He dropped into the pilot’s chair, already dialing the ‘gate. The ZPM interface would short out as soon as they made it through the wormhole, and that would be that.

And seconds later, they were in the Pegasus Galaxy.

THE END


End file.
